


time makes you bolder

by tessavirtch



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, and i do mean LIGHT angst, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17435021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessavirtch/pseuds/tessavirtch
Summary: If he’s being honest with himself, he always thought it would be Tessa. Through all of the denials, to themselves and to anybody who would listen, he always knew that their relationship was special; that they loved each other in a way that nobody else understood, in a way that even they didn’t understand. He really never envisioned this day with anyonebutTessa dressed in white and walking down the aisle to vow to love him forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to my fellow capricorns [resistate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/resistate) and [softswans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softswans) ily both thanks for being great pals (and for being patient because it isn't technically EITHER of your birthdays in your actual time zones now) ❤
> 
> THANK YOU to carol ([anakinleias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anakinleias)) and emmie ([tessamoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessamoir)) for beta reading, this would be a whole ass dumpster fire without you guys.
> 
>  
> 
> so the time frame here was sort of intentionally left vague but let's say this takes place somewhere between 3-7 years in the future.
> 
> buckle up y'all it's gonna be a ride!

Scott is pretty sure he’s never felt more nervous in his life.

Not when he first held the hand of a pretty little girl and saw his entire future laid out before him. Not when he kissed a girl, _really_ , _fully_ kissed a girl, for the first time. Not when he moved to a new country where he didn’t know anybody to further his career at the age of seventeen, or when he lost his virginity, or when he first said “I love you” to a girl and meant it; not even before he skated onto Olympic ice for the first, second, or third time.

He gives himself another look over in the mirror and straightens his tie. He always feels awkward wearing a suit, but agreed to do so today for the sake of tradition. He looks like an oversized child playing dress up in his father’s clothes, if a child could have unwelcome wrinkly little lines forming at the corners of their eyes. The premature wrinkles are the one thing about his family’s genetics that he wishes he could opt out of.

This really is a beautiful event, though. The old church that they had chosen has a rustic feel to it, with old-fashioned wood accents and large windows to let in natural light. With the help of his friends and family, the venue was decorated perfectly. While he found himself thinking about marriage a lot as a child, he never really pictured the specifics of what the day would look like. He just wanted something classic and traditional. In his mind, this is perfect.

So he’s nervous, but he’s happy. He wonders if she’s nervous too.

He does a last glance over his body before sucking in a deep breath and pushing open the large wooden doors. Everyone turns to look at him as he makes his way down the aisle, his stomach doing flips as he realizes that this is really happening now.

He takes his place at the altar and looks out at the crowd as the procession continues. He sees his brothers’ wives and their children and gives them a big smile. Alma is sitting in the front row with tears in her eyes and he mouths a soft, “I love you,” to her. He glances over the back rows—and Tessa is here. He’s surprised to see her, but he invited her, he remembers. He gives her a polite nod which she returns and it’s then that he realizes that something is off.

Nothing is happening.

The whole party is here. They’re just waiting for the bride.

There is no sign that the bride is coming.

People begin to shuffle uncomfortably in their seats as the music comes to an end. All eyes are on Scott and he feels himself beginning to panic. Something is wrong. Where is she?

He feels Charlie’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “Want me to go check on her?”

“No,” Scott shakes his head. “No, I’ll go see what’s up.”

He makes his way back down the aisle in silence, everyone’s eyes following him. He pushes back through the wooden doors and makes his way to her dressing room.

It’s empty. Completely empty.

His heart sinks. He goes back to his dressing room, desperate. He notices a slip of paper sticking out of the pocket of his jeans that are folded up on the desk. A slip of paper that he did not put there. He looks at it curiously before grabbing it and unfolding it.

It’s a letter. From the woman that he loves. His heart races as he worries that something is wrong; that something has happened to her.

_Scott,_

_I am sorry. For so many things._

_As I sit here wearing this beautiful white dress there are so many things that don’t feel right. Too many things for me to go through with this. And I hate that I’m doing this now but I think it’s a whole lot better than in a year or however many years later when it will take a lot of money and attorneys and much, much more pain to undo this._

He exhales through his nose. So she’s got cold feet. The last few weeks leading up to today have been a lot to handle. The last few months, even, she’s felt her growing distant. If he can find her now, maybe he can make her feel better. He begins to breathe normally as he calms down; this is fixable.

_When you asked me to marry you I agreed for all the wrong reasons._

His breath catches.

_I agreed because I liked the idea of it, liked the security and safety that comes along with marriage. I agreed because I wanted to make you happy (and I don’t want you to think you pressured me because of that, you didn’t, I really believed that this was something I wanted.)_

_If we go through with this, the rest of our lives will be hell. I will never be happy, and I will never be able to give you the life and love that you deserve, and you will never be happy either._

His head starts to swim and he realizes he hasn’t been breathing as he’s been reading the last two paragraphs. It’s worse than he thought. But still, he thinks, maybe she’s just having a breakdown. Maybe she just needs time.

_There’s no good way to say this so I just have to say it. I’m getting back together with Ben, and I don’t love you anymore._

Oh. It stings in a way that makes his mind go completely blank before flooding with memories of the last two months, of decreased intimacy and increased late-night walks around the neighborhood to “clear her head.”

_I don’t know that I ever did, at least in the way you want and deserve to be loved._

He struggles to continue reading as his hands begin to tremble.

_But you’re a great man and I know you’ll find someone who will love you in all the right ways._

There’s more to the letter but he can’t finish it, the words blurred by his shaking hands and the tears welling up in his eyes.

He sits with the revelation for a moment before crumpling the paper and throwing it on the ground as he clenches his jaw and shakes the tears away.

He needs to break something.

He kicks at the wall in front of him, hard, and immediately regrets it when it does nothing to lessen his emotional pain and only adds a new layer of physical pain. He slumps down onto the ground and leans back against the wall. His foot and his heart take turns throbbing and he hates everything about this.

Hates her for leaving. Hates that he hates her. Hates that he cut himself off from the best friend he’s ever had in order to secure his relationship with her. Hates that he gave her everything only for her to throw it away.

His head falls forward and his body shakes with a sob, though no tears come out. Maybe he should have seen this coming. He should have known that her distance wasn’t just nervousness. Should have known her better than this.

He pushes the heels of his hands against his closed eyes and lets out a few more quiet sobs. He hears the door click from across the room and keeps his face buried in his hands, refusing to look up.

Then he hears a soft, “Hey,” in the unmistakable voice that made up the soundtrack of his younger years, and he slowly raises his head to meet her eyes.

He gives her a small smile, not trusting his voice enough to speak.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” she begins, hesitantly. “But your mom thought I might be of some comfort to you.”

He nods, then hangs his head, focusing his gaze downward when he feels his chin quiver.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, and he can hear her shuffling her feet awkwardly across the room. He knows there’s nothing she hates more than _talking about it_. He doesn’t want to, anyway.

He shakes his head.

“Should I leave?”

He pauses, then shakes his head again.

He hears her footsteps approaching, feels her sink down onto the ground next to him, leaning her back against the wall, leaving a few inches between them.

She stretches her legs out in front of her, careful not to make contact with him. From the corner of his eye he sees her fold her hands across her lap as she settles. They sit in silence, not looking at each other, not touching, not speaking.

If he’s being honest with himself, he always thought it would be Tessa. Through all of the denials, to themselves and to anybody who would listen, he always knew that their relationship was special; that they loved each other in a way that nobody else understood, in a way that even they didn’t understand. He really never envisioned this day with anyone _but_ Tessa dressed in white and walking down the aisle to vow to love him forever.

But then he met Emily. And then he liked Emily. And then, eventually, he loved Emily. So he proposed to Emily, because life is short and he isn’t getting any younger.

And somewhere along the line, he stopped communicating with Tessa. He almost didn’t even invite her tonight. And just like that, she transformed from the only person he ever envisioned this day with to an afterthought; a footnote in the story of what should have been the greatest day of his life.

And then he stood before her and his family and friends, ready to commit to Emily once and for all, and Emily left him—left him alone, embarrassed, and looking like an idiot in front of everyone he loves, without so much as a real, proper goodbye.

And then… it’s now. And Tessa is here. And Emily is not.

He lets his head fall to the side and rest on her shoulder, which she takes as an invitation to slip her hand over his and interlace their fingers. He notices that he’s shaking, just slightly, and she must notice too, because she begins stroking his thumb soothingly. He clenches his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut, fighting back the lump forming in his throat and the burning in his tear ducts.

She tilts her head to the side so that it rests on his and he can’t believe that she’s here, she’s doing this, she’s not screaming at him. He wouldn’t blame her; he deserves it. But then, she’s never been the screamer of the two of them. He doesn’t doubt that he has yet to earn her forgiveness, and it makes him appreciate her calming presence more.

He’s so thankful for her that he almost forgets what he was upset about. Except that he doesn’t.

He’s shaken from his Tessa-induced trance and suddenly remembers that he’s supposed to be saying “I do” right now and the tears finally catch up with him, slipping down his cheeks in a steady stream. Tessa rests her free hand on his forearm and it helps to ground him, allowing him to think more clearly.

This sucks. But maybe it’s not the worst thing. Maybe he’ll be okay. He loved before Emily. Surely he’ll love again.

But... it still sucks.

Not to mention, he’s going to have to spend the next two weeks at home. Alone. Avoiding pity visits from his friends and family. When he’s supposed to be on a boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with his wife, getting day drunk off of overpriced cruise line margaritas and having the best sex of his life.

He’s going to have to cancel everything and eat the cost and try, for his own sake, to pretend that everything is normal when it is very much not.

Unless...

He lifts his head off of Tessa’s shoulder and stares straight ahead for a few seconds, working up his nerve, before taking a deep breath and a leap of faith.

“Do you want to go to Hawaii with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi sorry in advance if the first few updates are a bit slow/inconsistent because i’m currently in the process of moving but i know i left this on kind of a cliffhanger so i’m going to do my best!!!
> 
> also i’m currently adding this note the morning after publishing this so if you’ve already read this and you’re still seeing this note THANK YOU for all the comments and kudos, i was kind of nervous and insecure about this one and you’ve made me feel a lot better and i hope i can make you just as excited with the remaining chapters ❤️


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, he almost regrets it, but then Tessa is dipping her head down to look him in the eyes—he wonders if she’s seeing into his soul, reading his mind the way she always used to—and she’s nodding her head and saying “Yeah, yeah, of course, I’d love to go with you,” and then maybe he doesn’t regret it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) thanks [softswans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softswans) for the constant pep talks and for beta reading i would die for you please know this
> 
> 2) sorry this took so long, i moved at the end of january and also i went through some I Hate My Writing Hours™ which really slowed down my productivity but i'm OVER IT NOW and i'm BACK BABY
> 
> 3) sorry in advance for a certain scene/detail, it was written before tessa's her mark podcast but i'd be lying if i said i didn't go back and make it just a bit more painful after listening because i'm messy and get off on inflicting emotional distress directly in the middle of cute and funny moments
> 
> 4) the first chapter was honestly more of a prologue and there's still a lot of exposition to be done in this chapter but we DO get into the action here i PROMISE (oh, i promise, just trust me on this, i really really promise)
> 
> these notes are already longer than i wanted them to be i know this isn't what you're here for so BYE, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ❤

He almost regrets it the second the words leave his mouth.

She’s looking at him like he’s lost his mind, and maybe he has. Maybe the stress has permanently altered his brain function and he can no longer make rational decisions. Hell, she has a psychology degree, maybe she gets it.

The feeling of her eyes on him is too much and he diverts his gaze downward.

Aside from just being overwhelmed with feelings causing him to act on impulse, he’s not really sure why he even asked.

Well, no—he is.

He did it because he misses her. He misses her sense of humor, misses her laughter, misses the way she understands him in a way that nobody else does. There’s been a void in his life ever since he removed her from it; it wasn’t a decision that was easy to make, but it was one he thought he had to make for the sake of his relationship with Emily.

He did it because his entire life just got turned upside down in a matter of minutes and he wants someone and something that will make him feel like things are at least moderately normal.

And, as much as he hates to admit it, he did it because he wants to feel loved. And he knows there’s a special type of love there with Tessa. Even after a year. Even if it isn’t necessarily the exact type of love that he wants, not the type he’s craving right now. Maybe it’s the type of love that he needs to feel normal, to feel whole again.

Yes, he almost regrets it, but then Tessa is dipping her head down to look him in the eyes—he wonders if she’s seeing into his soul, reading his mind the way she always used to—and she’s nodding her head and saying “Yeah, yeah, of course, I’d love to go with you,” and then maybe he doesn’t regret it at all.

“Really?”

“Anything for my best friend,” she soothes, and he doesn’t realize he’s crying again until she’s swiping a thumb across his cheek, wiping away the moisture there.

“Oh, not fair,” he says weakly with a small chuckle. “You can’t make me cry when I’m already an emotional mess.”

“Sorry,” she shrugs, giving him a warm smile. “So tell me about our trip.”

“Right,” he wipes at his nose and straightens up a bit. “We’ll leave the day after tomorrow. We’ll fly to Vancouver then get on a boat. We’ll cruise for a few days and then it’s a week in Hawaii and we’re flying back home because we figured we would be sick of being on a boat by then—“

“Oh, a cruise?” she asks, and he wonders if she has some kind of dark history with a cruise ship that she’s never told him about, or if maybe she just doesn’t want to be trapped on a boat with him with no reasonable way to escape if things go wrong and she’s about to tell him she doesn’t want to go after all.

“Yeah. It’s a cruise. Only there, not back.”

She squints at him, tilting her head to the side before shrugging.

“Just not what I expected for you. Sounds fun!”

“Cool,” he says. “I’ll have all the tickets transferred to you.”

“Great,” she responds.

They’re quiet now, and he tries not to give much thought to the unease he feels at how pleasant she’s being, how she seems to have already forgiven him. Scott looks down and fidgets with the buttons on his sleeve as the silence begins to grow uncomfortable.

Tessa seems to notice.

“We should get out of here,” she says, smoothing out his lapels for him. “You look uncomfortable.”

He chuckles, but then a feeling of dread overcomes him when he remembers: everyone is still out there. Most of them don’t know what happened.

He’ll have to explain. He’ll have to deal with pitied stares and sad pats on the back and incessant questioning from his nosy relatives.

And then he’ll have to tell his mother that he’s still going on his honeymoon, and that he’s bringing his platonic skating partner—for whom he has always had complicated feelings—with him, when about twenty minutes ago they were at a point where they had become virtual strangers and he was about to marry another woman, all of which is very fine and normal and cool.

A cold sweat starts to form on his forehead, his neck and face growing hotter as his mind wanders.

He’ll have to face Emily’s family.

“It’ll be okay,” Tessa says, giving his hand a firm squeeze. He looks at her now and she’s got the same look she always used to get on her face right before a competition—determined, confident, fully prepared—and he feels himself beginning to relax. She stands up and extends her hand to him. He takes it and she helps him lift himself off of the ground. “I’m with you. Everything will be alright.”

And maybe it will.

-

It didn’t go over… extremely well. It didn’t go over well at all, actually.

Emily’s family was unexpectedly angry and accusatory.

“If she didn’t love you,” Emily’s father had said, eyes staring daggers into Scott, “then why did you pressure her into this?”

Scott’s family, in turn, got extremely defensive.

“Did you not listen to what she wrote? Scott didn’t do anything wrong.”

And then things had descended into chaos. Harsh words and name-calling spewed from both families, some of them saying things that Scott would never dare to repeat about both his and Emily’s character, and he can’t help but feel like maybe he dodged a bullet if this is how family gatherings would have been.

His blood pressure began to rise as his body fought between fight and flight. He wanted to say something that would get them all to shut up, or to get out and run as far away as possible, but then Tessa’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and he stayed rooted where he stood, silent, waiting for the storm to die down.

Alma, who had been sitting quietly in the first row and avoiding the conflict, gestured for him to come sit with her. Tessa released him and gave him a light pat on the back and he went over to sit with his mother.

“I knew what happened the second you went to check on her,” she told him, turning to him and wrapping him in a hug. And of course she did. It’s why she sent Tessa.  “If I’m honest, I never cared much for the girl,” she continued, and it was meant to make him feel better, he was sure, but it didn’t.

He didn’t respond, because there was so much he wanted to say and he couldn’t settle on just one thing to start with, and he was far too drained for it anyway. People had begun storming out of the chapel and he hardly noticed, leaning against Alma’s shoulder as she stroked his hair. Tessa came to sit on his other side as the row cleared out.

“Thank you,” Alma told her. “For helping.”

Tessa put her arm around Scott to give Alma a light pat in acknowledgment.

“Ma,” Scott said, pushing himself off of Alma’s shoulder and looking her in the eye. “I’m taking Tessa to Hawaii.”

He saw a lot of things flash across her face then: confusion, skepticism, annoyance, and then, ultimately, resignation.

“Lovely,” she said, and the note of cynicism in her tone did not go unnoticed. He didn’t care; he still doesn’t. He knows what he needs right now and he’s not going to be persuaded out of it.

-

Some time between then and now, things got uncomfortable with Tessa again.

He didn’t hear from her for a full twenty-four hours following the wedding. He almost expected her to come to her senses and come down with a mystery illness that would prevent her from traveling. It took him by surprise when he texted her the evening before the flight, almost as a test, to suggest that they ride to the airport together, and she responded immediately with “ _Great idea!_ ”

The ride to the airport was quiet. He doesn’t let that bother him too much. It’s early. When he picked her up at her house, it was still dark outside, and it’s only now as they board their flight that the sun has started to peek over the horizon.

“So,” he says, settling into his seat next to her after arranging their bags in the overhead compartment. “What’s new in the life of Tessa Virtue?”

“Oh, lots of things,” she says, and it’s a subtle but painful reminder of how long it’s been since he’s asked. “Working a lot. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I’m designing a line for Adidas. That’s where I’ve been focusing most of my energy lately.”

“That’s huge, Tess!” he exclaims, perking up. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” she smiles. “It’s been so tiring and so much harder than I expected, but I love every second of it.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he grins, and she smiles softly at him in response. They smile at each other in silence for half a second too long and Tessa’s face just begins to fall before Scott breaks the tension. “I can’t wait to buy every piece and wear them to the gym every time I go.”

She chuckles at this. “Yeah, I’m working on a pair of purple tights with floral print that would be perfect for you. They really accentuate your butt. Could be very popular with the ladies when you’re ready to rebound.”

He lets out a chuckle, despite the twinge of pain he feels in his chest at the thought of it. “Hey,” he begins, suddenly remembering that he doesn’t even know what’s going on in his best friend’s love life anymore, the idea of asking never even occurring to him until long after he had already asked her to go on _his honeymoon_ with him. “You still seeing that guy? Colin, right?”

She tenses. “Colin, yeah, and no,” she glances away from him. “That was short-lived. He was… he had issues with my work and my success. Threatened by it, I guess. I broke it off with him not long after—“ she pauses, seemingly having trouble thinking of the words. “It was around June.”

_Oh_ . His mind fills in the words she didn’t say: “ _Not long after you decided to propose to Emily_ ,” or worse, “ _Not long after you stopped talking to me._ ”

He isn’t sure what to say. He wants—needs—to address what happened, but she seems reluctant to talk about it. Another time, maybe. When it feels right. He settles for, “He was an asshole,” and a sympathetic look.

“Yeah,” she nods, jaw clenched. “Yeah, he was.”

He pats her knee awkwardly.

“It’s alright,” she continues. “We weren’t together that long. Plus, I’ve had a great year, professionally, without dating to distract me. This trip will be a great chance to relax though,” She tilts her head to rest on the wall of the plane, stifling a yawn. “I feel like I haven’t let myself fully rest since the new year.”

“I’ll try not to stress you out too much,” he teases.

“You could never,” she soothes, chuckling softly, letting her eyes drift shut. His heart swells at that and he smiles at her, even though she can’t see it.

She’s out like a light before the plane has even taken off.

-

She jerks awake next to him, startled, as the plane’s wheels make contact with the ground. He watches as she blinks a few times, bleary-eyed and dazed, seemingly trying to remember where she is and why she’s here, before recognition crosses her face and she meets Scott’s eyes with a smile.

“Morning,” he says, closing the airline’s magazine and placing it in the seat pocket in front of him.

“Morning,” she responds hoarsely, stretching and gently rubbing her eyelids, careful to avoid her mascara-coated lashes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep the whole time.”

“No worries,” he replies. “Well, a few worries: you didn’t move at all the whole time you were asleep and I thought you had been replaced by a more restful clone. But, you know, it’s alright, is what I’m saying.”

She laughs, and it warms him up from the inside out. It’s the first time he’s heard a full laugh from her in months, and he almost forgot how much he missed it, and how musical and joyful the sound is. “Not a clone, just really needed the rest, I guess.”

“Sounds like something a clone would say.” he teases, and she lets out another small laugh before fishing her phone out of her pocket and turning it on.

Her phone starts buzzing off the hook and she looks down at her screen, swiping with through all of her missed notifications. Scott pulls out his phone and turns off airplane mode. Messages flood in from his friends and family, and he skims over them, seeing a lot of “ _heard what happened_ ,” “ _so sorry_ ,” and “ _wasn’t right for you_ ,” and not a single message, missed call, or anything from Emily. He sighs quietly and decides to put airplane mode back on and to slip the phone back into his pocket.

There’s a high pitched _ding_ and they both unbuckle their seatbelts and rise from their seats. Scott grabs their luggage from above them and Tessa takes her bag from him. They make their way off of the plane quietly, weaving through the morning crowd at the Vancouver airport. Scott is so lost in his thoughts that he almost doesn’t notice when they make their way to the baggage claim. Tessa is equally pensive, still in her just-woke-up state of silence. They collect their suitcases, and Scott turns to her, breaking their silence.

“We won’t be boarding for a few more hours. Breakfast?” She nods enthusiastically, eyes widening as she perks up. He chuckles at the sight of her. “I know a place. I’ll get us a Lyft.”

-

The “place” is a cozy diner with a casual, classic old-school vibe. The food, he realizes almost immediately after they’ve been seated, may not necessarily be Tessa’s style, all drenched in oil and salt—but she graciously scans the menu and orders eggs, toast, and a side of fruit regardless.

He watches the life seep back into her eyes as she sips her coffee.

“I want to see something,” she says, perking up and swirling the coffee in her mug. “Let’s play twenty questions.”

He chuckles. “Alright. You want to guess, or you want me to guess?”

“I’ll guess.”

“Okay,” he leans back in his seat, folding his hands in front of him. “I’m thinking of a person.”

“A person,” she repeats, nodding slightly to herself. “A real person?”

He nods.

“Currently alive?”

“Very much so,” he nods again.

“Are they famous?”

He pauses for a moment, considering this. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

She squints at him, and he can tell that somehow she’s already close to getting it. And he really thought he was tricking her. “Is it someone we know? Or at least someone we’ve met?”

“Yeah, we know her.”

“Her?” she raises her eyebrows, and he rolls his eyes, internally hitting himself. “Thanks for the free clue.” She ponders this new information for a moment before guessing, “Nelly Furtado.”

So, maybe she’s not that close. He shakes his head, and a look of disappointment crosses her face before promptly returning to her determined expression.

“Is she an athlete?”

He nods.

“Kaitlyn,” she sounds confident.

“Which Kaitlyn?” he asks, knowing it will throw her off more.

“Weaver?”

“Nope.”

“Have you been,” she wiggles her eyebrows at him, “romantically involved?”

He thinks on it, but not for too long so as to avoid tipping her off. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Not a real answer,” she squints at him. “Kaitlyn Lawes, then.”

He shakes his head.

“How many Kaitlyns are there?” she exclaims, voice laced with frustration.

“Hey,” he chuckles as she glares at him. “Relax, you’ve got this. That’s not a yes or no question, though.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, jaw clenched. “Is her name some variation of Kaitlyn?”

“No.”

“You tricked me!” she pouts, and he laughs at her expression, giving her a shrug. “Is she a skater?”

“Yes.”

She perks up. “Canadian?”

He nods, and he can see the gears turning in her head. The gears stop and he thinks, once again, that she’s gotten it. Something that looks like insecurity or self doubt crosses her face and he _knows_ that she’s gotten it, and the doubt is gone just as quickly as it appeared.

“Is she,” she drawls, placing one hand delicately over her heart, “devastatingly beautiful?”

“Oh yes,” he beams at her. “ _Devastatingly_ so.”

“Could it be… five-time Olympic medalist Tessa Virtue?” she ponders in a faux-inquisitive tone.

“Humble,” he teases, drawing a playful giggle from her. He holds his fist out to her. ”You got it!”

“We’ve still got it!” she exclaims with a quiet cheer. She tries to fist bump him but it doesn’t quite land, her index and middle fingers just barely brushing his knuckles. She chortles at herself. “Well, maybe not.”

“To be fair, we never _had_ that to begin with.” He grabs at her wrist gently and gestures for her to make a fist. Holding her wrist steady with one hand, he gives her a successful fist bump with the other and raises his eyebrows at her. “There. Nailed it.”

“Doesn’t count,” she smiles playfully, relaxing her hand in his grip.

“We’ll have to work on it, but it’s a start,” he strokes her wrist with his thumb without realizing he’s doing it.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt,” a woman’s voice comes from beside them. Scott releases his grip on Tessa’s wrist and she jerks it away instinctively. Their server places their plates in front of them. “Country style breakfast for you, sir, and eggs and toast with a side of fruit for the missus.”

_Missus_ makes him want to laugh out loud and sends a shock wave of hurt straight to his chest simultaneously. He chooses, for his own sake, to focus on the humor rather than on the fact that he should be here with the real new Mrs. Moir right now. He lets out an amused huff as he opens his mouth to tell the woman that they aren’t married, but Tessa is smiling at her with a warm, “Thank you,” and she’s walking away before he has a chance to get any words out.

Tessa takes one last sip of her coffee before starting on her eggs. He wonders if maybe he’s overthinking the _missus_ thing, because she doesn’t seem to be at all phased by it. Then again, it’s not the first time someone thought they were a couple.

“You said ‘you could say that’ we were romantically involved,” she muses, shaking him from his thoughts.

“I did say that,” he agrees, recalling the exchange from just a few minutes ago as he chews his food.

“Were you just trying to throw me off? We were never together,” she points her fork at him.

“I feel threatened,” he jokes, and she slowly lowers her fork. “Anyway, I didn’t explicitly say that we were.”

“You said ‘you could say’ that we were,” she repeats. “Like, what do you mean?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do you mean?’” he retorts, and she rolls her eyes at him. “You _could_ say that. Lots of people _have_ said that.” He punctuates the statement with a gesture toward the space that their server just occupied and she lets out a loud laugh.

“You’re a smartass.”

“Ouch,” he feigns offense, pressing his hand against his chest. “And watch your profanity, kiddo.”

She rolls her eyes at him again but can’t fight the smile forming on her lips at the sound of the old nickname. It warms his heart to see the way it still makes her smile.

“I missed talking to you,” she says, the smallest hint of sadness in her voice. Her smile quickly falls as she shakes her head, blinking rapidly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that—“

“No! No, you have nothing to be sorry for. Should we,” he hesitates, unsure how to proceed, or if he _should_ proceed. “Should we talk about—“

“No,” she cuts him off. “Not right now.”

She says it simply, meeting his eyes only for a second before focusing her gaze back down toward her meal, and for the first time in his memory, he can’t get a read on her. He can’t tell what she’s thinking, can’t decipher whatever feeling may be hidden behind her words, and it scares the hell out of him.

She spears a chunk of pineapple with her fork and bites into it, eyes drifting shut as she chews. “Oh my god, I bet the fruit is so good in Hawaii.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he agrees, unsettled by her reluctance to discuss what happened between them and her eagerness to change the topic.

“You guess now,” she says between bites of toast. “I’m thinking of a place.”

He doesn’t push the issue. “Is it Hawaii?”

“No,” she smiles. “Please, I’m not _that_ easy.”

He sighs. She certainly isn’t.

-

The pictures really didn’t do the ship justice. Before, when he looked at the pictures, he had worried that they would arrive and it actually wouldn’t be as nice as it looked online, but the reality is quite the opposite. It’s enormous, extravagant, and luxurious; and, he thinks selfishly, it’s exactly what he deserves after what he’s been through.

They pass a pool as they make their way to their suite; it’s out in the open with full exposure to the sun, and he can already tell that Tessa is going to make it her home for these next few days based on the way she’s looking at it. There’s a nice lounge area next to a fun, tropical-themed mini bar, and Scott thinks maybe he can take up residence in the poolside area as well.

They follow the signs pointing them toward their hallway, luggage in tow. As they make their way down the hall, Scott is blown away by how beautiful it is. The floors are covered in black carpet, the walls an immaculate white accented with black and gold decor. It’s classic and very clean; it’s designed exactly how he imagines Tessa’s dream house would look.

The room numbers are in gold next to the doors and he counts them as they pass, _three twenty-two, three twenty-four, three twenty-six_ …

“Three twenty-eight. That’s us,” he says aloud as they reach the end of the hallway. As he unlocks the door, he notices something that the other rooms didn’t have next to their golden numbers: a small, shiny heart, signifying that this is the honeymoon suite—a detail that Scott had, until now, forgotten. He scoffs, pointing at the heart and nudging Tessa. “Subtle, eh?”

He swings the door open and they step into the room and _subtle_ is not a word that could be used to describe this place in any way whatsoever. Honest to god, it looks like the set for a porn shoot.

It still matches the classy theme of the hallway, with the addition of several maroon accents. Rose petals are scattered across the bed and arranged in the shape of a heart in the center. Scott stares into the room, gawking, and he hears Tessa giggle from behind him at just how over-the-top it all is.

At the center of the rose petal heart sits a basket containing various oils and lotions. Scott sifts through the basket and also finds that it contains a box of condoms and a few sample packets of lube. He blushes, covering it back up with the lotions before Tessa sees and placing the basket under the bedside table as if she’s still twelve and he, himself, is a grown up, very mature, full-blown adult at fourteen and is afraid of ruining her innocence.

A bottle of red wine, a corkscrew, and two wine glasses are situated on one of the side tables, with a box of chocolates on the other.

“Oh, I’ll be needing that, like, right now,” Tessa jokes, leaving her suitcase in the doorway and making her way into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. She pulls the box of chocolates onto her lap and grabs at the wine bottle. “Shall we?”

He lets out a nervous huff and sits next to her. She makes quick work of removing the bottle’s cork and pours them each a glass.

“Cheers,” she holds her glass out to him in a toast.

“Cheers,” he repeats, clinking his glass against hers.

They both take gulps that are entirely too big before Tessa begins swirling her wine around in her glass. Scott uses the moment of silence to survey the rest of the room.

“Nice couch,” he notes. It _is_ nice; it’s made of a dark red leather and looks, like everything else in the room, like it came from a porn set—but a classy one.

“It is,” she agrees. “If we can get an extra blanket, and you share a pillow or two, I can get nice and cozy there and we shouldn’t have a problem.”

“What do you—“ his mind fills in the blanks and answers his question for him before he’s even finished the thought. “Right. Shit. That didn’t even occur to me.”

She nods, and then they sit quietly, sipping at their wine, and he’s left with his thoughts playing loudly inside his head.

He hasn’t slept alone in ages. For the past two nights between the wedding and now, he only half-slept; for the most part, he tossed and turned and laid awake trying to focus his thoughts on anything but Emily. Maybe a warm body next to him would help in his quest to feel normal again—and they’ve done it before without it being awkward or sexual or strange.

He would never suggest that, though.

Still, the thought of Tessa sleeping on the couch bothers him. He knows she’s more than willing to, and knows that she would do so without a single complaint, but she deserves something far more luxurious than a couch, no matter how nice the couch may be—plus, he has about two and a half decades of guilt related to the way he’s treated her, and one year in particular, that he wants to make up for.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Scott, _you’re_ not sleeping on the couch,” she crosses her arms, delicately avoiding spilling her wine, and if it weren’t under these circumstances, he’d be delighted to see that her stubbornness is still alive and well as always. “In case you forgot, this is _your_ trip, and _you_ paid for all of this, and I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

He stares at her, trying to calculate how he could possibly win this. This morning’s breakfast proved to him that bringing up the last year is not the way to go, so he won’t be pushing _that_ topic again.

“You’re my guest,” he decides to go for the hospitality angle. “You could be at home, sleeping in your big fluffy cozy bed every night, but you decided to be here with me instead, comforting me. The least I can do is give you _this_ comfort,” he throws in an emotional touch for good measure, and he was definitely trying to play it up, looking at her with exaggerated puppy-dog eyes and a sheepish smile, but the twinge he feels in his heart when he says it is very, very real.

She softens, uncrossing her arms, and he can see her thinking about it as she continues to sip her wine. She stills for a moment, holding the glass against her lips without drinking from it, and Scott thinks that maybe, for the first time in forever, he’s won an argument with Tessa Virtue. Then she leans her head back, throwing back the rest of the wine in her glass, and turns to look at him with an expression on her face that he can’t quite read.

“We could share.”

Well, _he_ wasn’t going to suggest it to _her_ , but since she’s the one that brought it up...

“Huh,” he pretends to consider it—pretends that he hasn’t _already_ thought about it. He cocks his head to the side and strokes his chin because he’s nothing if not a committed performer.

He fake-ponders for too long, though, and Tessa’s confidence falters.

“Sorry, I—”

“No!” he stops her. “It’s a great idea.”

She still looks worried.

“Really. Everybody wins,” he continues. A more reasonable compromise would be taking turns having the bed to themselves, but hey. “Anyway, it’ll be nice…” he trails off, not wanting to repeat his thought from earlier because while she does have a very _warm body,_ she is a lot more than that, and he doesn’t want her to think that he thinks that’s all she’s good for. “It’ll feel like normal.”

“It’ll be like that one competition when we were kids,” she supplies, and he remembers. “I woke up with you curled up against me like a cat, meanwhile I was halfway off the bed.”

“I can’t promise that won’t happen again,” he laughs.

“I can’t promise I won’t hit and kick you all night,” she raises her eyebrows. “Unconsciously, of course, I would have absolutely no control over it _at all_.”

“Of course,” he repeats, and they both chuckle. “Deal.”

He holds his free hand out to her and they shake on it. He finishes his wine quietly and puts the glass on the ground by his feet as she plucks a piece of chocolate from the box.

“Like normal,” she echoes his words from earlier, slowly, nodding to herself. “It’ll feel like normal.” They share a smile, nodding in sync with each other.

A knock on the door shakes them from their haze and they startle, backing away from each other and wow, Scott didn’t realize they were that close to begin with. The door is still propped open by Tessa’s suitcase, and a middle-aged blonde woman wearing a leopard-print bathing suit cover-up is peeking her head in.

“Hello,” she sings. “I’m Coralee.”

“Hi!” Tessa practically shoots out of her seat, rushing toward the door to greet her with a handshake. “I’m Tessa.”

“Tessa,” Coralee repeats, pulling her into a tight hug before releasing her and grabbing onto her shoulders. “Beautiful. Nice to meet you, Tessa.”

“Nice to meet you too,” she says, very cordially, but Scott can hear the edge of confusion in her voice. The women stare at each other for a brief moment before Coralee speaks up again.

“I’m in three twenty-seven,” she gestures across the hall. “Just wanted to meet the neighbors!”

“Oh, great!” Tessa backs away and beckons her into the room. “Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, sure,” she responds, following Tessa in.

“I’m Scott,” he waves tentatively.

“Nice to meet you Scott,” Coralee makes her way over to him, giving him a quick, awkwardly-positioned hug from where he still sits on the edge of the bed. “Wow, this suite is as romantic as I imagined it would be.”

“It is, huh?” Tessa agrees, gesturing toward the couch. “Please, sit, make yourself comfortable.” Both women sit, Tessa back where she was seated on the bed, and Coralee on the couch.

“Are you here by yourself?” Scott asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Oh, no, I’m here with my wife. She’s just,” she covers her her mouth and faux-whispers, “a bit shy. Anna!” she shouts toward the door.

A tall, rail-thin woman with a short black bob appears in the doorway as if by magic.

“Hello,” she says, almost imperceptibly.

“Come in!” Tessa beckons, and Anna makes her way into the room, sitting quietly next to Coralee. “I’m Tessa, this is Scott.”

“Hello,” Anna repeats simply.

“Hello,” Scott parrots back to her, and they share a quiet nod of solidarity because he thinks he might be just as overwhelmed by the action of the last two minutes as she is.

“How long have you two been married?” Tessa asks.

“Fifteen years,” Coralee responds, and Anna nods, the glimmer of a smile on her lips. Coralee grabs Anna’s hand and leans her head onto her shoulder. “We’re here for our anniversary; it was last month.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, congratulations,” Tessa gushes.

“Thank you,” she replies warmly. “I can see that you’re recently married, but how long have you two been together?”

Tessa opens her mouth to reply, but turns to look at Scott first. He stares back at her, wide-eyed. He really wants her to take the reins on this, to come up with some lie that somehow doesn’t involve the tragic details of him getting left at the altar because the whole point of him going on this trip was to avoid that exact brand of pity.

He catches a glimmer in her eye that looks… playful? It gives him an idea—probably a very stupid idea, but he’s feeling impulsive—and he just… goes for it, grabs her hand and interlaces their fingers and hopes that she’s okay with it, hopes that she’ll play along.

“As long as I can remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> if anyone wants to come yell at me you can find me here: [twitter](https://twitter.com/tessavirtch) \- [tumblr](https://tessa-virtch.tumblr.com/) \- [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/tessavirtch)
> 
> constructive criticism, comments, and kudos are appreciated ❤


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